Love Lies Bleeding
by TruthxLiesxMagic
Summary: An accidental cut on the finger leads Sweeney Todd into a second epiphany. Rated T for serious angst and attempted suicide. Now multi-chaptered at the demand of my muses. I completed this at last!
1. Love Lies Bleeding

**Love Lies Bleeding**

Summary: An accidental cut on the finger leads Sweeney Todd into a second epiphany. Rated T for serious angst and character death.

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_Drip._

_Drip. Drip._

I stared at my hand. Blood oozed from the accidental gash, dripping onto the wooden floor, joining the blood of the last customer. I couldn't feel a thing. The razor was still in my hand.

_Drip. Drip. Drip_

It wasn't coming out fast enough. I don't think I thought about what I was doing. For some reason I just wanted to see my own blood. So I did the obvious thing. I took the razor and made another cut down my hand. On purpose this time. The liquid rubies ran faster.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

It felt… Well actually it felt damn good. I don't care to think why. It just did. I could feel something now, just about. A slight throbbing. Like my heart was in my hand. Ha! Irony at its finest. Mrs Lovett would agree. No wonder I did what I did if my heart wasn't in the right place.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

I remembered what I'd said to Mrs Lovett a few months ago. We all deserve to die. Even you, Mrs Lovett. Even I. I hadn't killed the judge. He'd left. He was never coming back. I'd missed my chance to take revenge on him for what he had done. But I could still be with Lucy. Maybe. If I was lucky. If not – which was more likely, I had to face it – I'd burn in the fires of hell. I had to take a chance.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and it's filled with people who are filed with shit, and the vermin of the world inhabit it. But not for long.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

The razor glittered in the lamplight. Strange, really, how something so deadly could be so beautiful. I lifted it up, admiring the sparkle one last time. Then I brought it down, carefully, and brought it across my wrist, careful as if I were shaving. Up and down – not across, no that was plain messy. Up and down. Up and down.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

The rubies are gushing now. I still can't feel any pain, not really. The sight of those rubies is so captivating, like being hypnotised. The steady rhythm of drops hitting the floor. It's music to my ears.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

I'll never see my girl again. Johanna, my little turtledove, my pet. I wager you're exactly as I imagined you. Beautiful and pale, with golden hair, and you'd look too much like your mother. I've thought of you every day since you were a year old babe. The thoughts of you and Lucy were what kept me alive in Australia. Now, when we should be back together, you're being held like a bird in a cage.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

Black spots are eating away at my vision…

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

…My legs feel weak…

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

…Is this the end drawing near? The end of Sweeney Todd?

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

I sink to the floor. There's not enough blood left to keep me standing.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

I can barely see now. Only shadows. The shadows that have followed me since I was transported.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

One day… the judge will meet his maker…

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

I will go down in history…

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

As Sweeney Todd…

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Demon barber of Fleet Street…

_Drip…_


	2. Love Lives Cursing

_A/N: I know this was a one-shot, but my Lovett-Muse decided she wasn't going to co-operate properly with anything else unless I brought her Mr T back from the grave (Sigh). So now this is officially multi-chaptered. I can't see it going on for more than another two or so chapters though. Sorry this is short. I can't seem to write long chapters when doing Sweenett.

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_

**Love Lives Cursing**

**OoOoOoO**

I was jerked out of my doze by Mr T muttering again. 'Is eyes were closed, an' 'e looked like 'e was sleepin', but I couldn't be sure.

"Lucy…" 'E muttered, a look on 'is face 'alfway 'tween 'appiness an'… an' I don't-know-what.

"Lucy…" 'Is hand closed 'round mine as if 'e'd done it all 'is life. "Lucy, is tha' you?"

Oh, my Lord, 'e was delusional. 'E thought I was Lucy. Well. What 'e doesn't know won't 'urt 'im.

"It's me, love." I squeezed 'is hand, wrapped in bandages an' all. "Don't fret."

How I'd wanted to do this since he returned...

"Lucy…" 'Is face went all contorted, like, for a moment. "Where's Johanna? I can't hear her."

"She's sleepin', love." I whispered. "Hush now. You need to rest."

"Did I make it to heaven, then, Lucy?"

Well. That made me blood run cold for sure. When I'd gone upstairs to see if Mr T had done for the day, I swear some o' me hair went grey, seein' 'im covered in blood like 'e was. I thought 'e'd cut himself accidental, like. Good Lord… 'ad 'e tried to take 'is life? Was it me own fault, for tellin' 'im Lucy was dead?

"Lucy…"

Oh. Right. I hadn't answered 'im. But how? _How_? I 'ad to think quick. What to say? _What to say?_ I chose.

"Yeah, love." I whispered in 'is ear. "Yeah, you did."

"'M sorry. I didn' kill 'im…" If Mr T was awake, 'e was fallin' asleep again now. "I didn' kill Turpin…"

"_Hush_, love! It don't matter." I told 'im a bit firmer, a tone I'd ne'er dare use if 'e were awake proper like. "Rest… And… We'll take Johanna out later, eh?"

"Around the gardens." 'E agreed. "She likes it there…"

"Yeah." I said, as me lovely slept again. Somethin' was wet against me hand, and I saw 'e was bleedin' again, right through the bandage. Bloody fool. What in 'Eaven an' Earth made 'im take 'is razor to 'is 'and? I pressed a kiss to 'is cheek - somethin' else I'd longed to do - an' got up an' went through the upstairs rooms, outside to the stairs.

"Toby." I called, careful like, not wantin' to wake Mr Todd, though 'e prob'ly could've slept through a storm. "I need more bandages, pet."

The lad, bless 'im, was there in half a tick, 'ead poking out o' the shop door. Little lamb. 'E must've bin keepin' an ear out for me."

"Yes, Mum." 'E said, an' soon enough he was up them stairs with some bandages in 'is 'ands.

"Thank you, Toby." I ruffled 'is 'air. 'E was a good lad.

"Mum…" Toby shuffled nervously. "Is Mr Todd goin' to… die?"

"'Course not, love." I forced a smile for 'is sake. Poor lamb. I knew 'e didn't like my Mr Todd all that much, but 'e was worried all the same. "'E'll be right as rain soon enough, you watch."

I 'oped. I prayed.

I hummed a tune, goin' back to 'is sleepin' room. One of me favourites from the music 'alls. 'By The Sea'. It 'ad been one 'e liked too, once – 'e'd sing it for Lucy of a night. No – not 'im. One o' _Benjamin's_ favourites. Within five seconds I was singin' where I left off hummin'. Don't know what came over me.

_"With the sea at our gate, we'll have kippered herring  
Wot have swum to us straight from the Straits of Bering!  
Ev'ry night, in the kip, when we're through our kippers,  
I'll be there slippin' off your slippers!  
By the sea,  
With the fishies splashing!  
By the sea!  
Wouldn't that be smashing?"_

"Must you sing that song, Mrs Lovett?"

I almost dropped the bandages at that, I can tell you. Mr Todd was awake and slumped up 'gainst the doorframe. 'Ow 'e'd got 'imself up an' out o' bed, an' then _walked_, bleedin' like 'e 'ad been an' still was, was beyond me.

"Mr Todd!" I couldn't 'elp lookin' at 'is wrist, and sure enough it was bleedin' bad, but 'e didn't notice, or failin' that didn't care. "You're bleedin', love."

"You shouldn't have interfered, Mrs Lovett."

There it was, gleamin' in 'is eyes like them blasted 'rubies' 'e loves so much. Bloodlust. Oh Lord save me. Don't let 'im take that razor to me throat...

"B-But you were 'alf-dead." I tried desperately. Please, God, don't let 'im kill me…

"EXACTLY!" 'E roared, an' I jumped back a step. "I was there, Mrs Lovett, with Lucy and Johanna…"

Oh no… 'E really thought 'e'd died when I pretended to be Lucy. So I did what I always did. I babbled.

"But Johanna isn't dead, we know that for a cert, right, Mr T? An' what 'bout Turpin? Oh, tell me why you did it, please, love!"

"Be still, woman." 'E growled. "Now leave me."

"But your wrist…" I protested. That's me. Always pushin' me limits.

"I SAID _LEAVE ME_!"

And so I did. I dumped the bandages in 'is chair an' got out o' that room like the hounds o' 'ell were on me 'eels.

Oh, Mr T, why can't you see, you are to me, what Lucy was to you? You're me reason an' me life, Mr T. Don't leave me, love. Don't leave me again.

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_A/N: I put this up tonight 'cause I said I'd add another oneshot to my Sweenett collection, 'Sweetness And Bitterness', but I couldn't get the idea down on paper properly, so please accept this humble offering instead._


	3. Love Burns Dormant

_A/N: I've had an epiphany on where this is going! Or the sequel at least, since the idea wouldn't really fit under the title of this. And no, it wasn't a Sweeney-ish epiphany, it was a good one._

_Er… This chapter is on Sweeney's P.O.V again, but it came out more random than the first one. I think it might be a tad OOC too, but it seemed right as I was writing it.

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_

**Love Burns Dormant **

****

I paced around the room, ignoring my throbbing wrist. It only registered when the music began again, sweet and soothing.

_Drip. Drip._

Blood had seeped through the bandages – _bandages? When were they put there?_ – and was falling to the floor. Such sweet music. I walked over to the table and reach with one hand for a razor, my eyes fixed to the floor where the blood from before has dried, and the new spots are falling.

_Drip. Drip._

I frowned. The razors weren't in their proper place. Turning, I cursed. The razors weren't on the table at all. She must have taken them, hidden them. May the Devil have your soul, Mrs Lovett. Finally, I was so close to Lucy, to Johanna, to death. And then she interfered, in her self-righteous way. Her words rang in my ears. I had gained some small satisfaction from the aura of fear that always hung heavily around her, but something else niggled at my anger. It wasn't my conscience – I had destroyed _that_ years ago – but there was a small sense of… what?

_Drip. Drip._

_Guilt._

A small voice in the back of my mind whispered the word. I tried to ignore it. It was wrong. Perhaps Benjamin Barker might have felt guilt, but that man was dead. Sweeney Todd never regretted, never forgot, and never forgave.

_You feel guilty._

I don't, I don't, why should I?

_She saved your life, and you only repaid her by shouting at her._

I wanted to die! And if my razors had been there, she'd have more than a sore ear…

_No, you wanted to be with Lucy. But that will never happen, will it? Because she's in heaven and you'll burn in Hell. And you couldn't have killed her. You need her. Without her you're nothing. Who'd make sure nobody found out about the killings then?_

No_…_ I gripped my head, trying to block the voice out. It was wrong, it was wrong. I didn't feel guilty, I had no reason to. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong.

_Then why is it taking so much effort to convince yourself?_

I couldn't answer.

_See now?_

I ignored it, staring instead at my bandaged wrist. The white linen was stained a beautiful ruby red. A small puddle of blood was already forming at my feet. My eyes wandered of their own accord towards the bandages dumped on the chair.

_The least you can do is live…_

I started at my own thoughts. Where had those words come from? No… no, it was all wrong. That wasn't me. Those words were from a dead man. Why did I care about that woman? She was just a necessary means to achieve the end. Why should I care about her, so long as she did as she was told?

Yes, think about the end. My razor against the Judge's throat. The best – and yet the most sour – rubies of all.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

I sighed. Turned the argument over in my head.

_The least you can do is live._

My hand hovered over the bandages on the chair. Was it worth it? Was it worth dying without avenging Lucy to chance seeing her again? I growled, trying to justify my actions.

I had to live to avenge Lucy. It was that goal that kept me going. But then what? Well, after that there was nothing to stop me. Not even her.

But why did I keep seeing her face, so relieved? And then… so… what? …Hurt? But why did it _matter_?

But for now, I needed to work out a way to get the Judge back here. Just long enough to kill him. A cruel smirk formed on my lips. Oh yes. And he would suffer for what he had done. I would make sure of that.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

A sigh, irritated, frustrated, tired. I realised it was from me. Working quickly, I untied the bloody bandage, and awkwardly fixed a fresh one around my bleeding wrist. I couldn't help stopping for a moment and watching the rubies running freely, but I quickly shook myself out of the trance. I couldn't afford to let that happen again. I had been… wrong, perchance. Or simply impatient.

But soon. Soon, I would be with Lucy.

The bandage was loose and badly tied, seeing as I'd only used one hand. But it would do for now. Nothing was going to prevent me from avenging Lucy.


	4. Love Used Wilfully

_A/N: I both love and hate this chapter. I love it because it came out all on its own with hardly any input from me, but I hate it because at the end it's sketchier than I wanted, but then it seems right. Meh, I don't know._

_Also, sorry, sorry, sorry it took so long to finish this off. Yes, this is the final chapter of Love Lies Bleeding. Don't worry, there's a sequel planned called Naivety Is Bliss, but it won't be out for a while. At least not until I'm well on with I Doubt If Anyone Would Know. Now, please read and review! See if you can spot the reference to another of my fics._

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**Love Used Wilfully**

I walked down to the shop, not entirely sure what I was going to do, but knowing that something had to be done. In the back of my mind I toyed with the idea of even apologising to the woman, but forced myself not to acknowledge the idea entirely. Sweeney Todd never forgave, never forgot, and most certainly never _apologised_.

I glanced through the windows before going through the door and saw her making up the pies quite happily, even humming a tune, and I was about to turn around and go back upstairs, secure in the knowledge that she hadn't taken anything to heart, when I noticed everything about her seemed a little… strained. Frazzled. For once I actually looked at the woman, taking in everything.

Red hair. Not ginger, but a deep auburn-brown, amassed in a haphazard up do, with stray curls floating this way and that. It probably hadn't seen a brush in a while, for I'd yet to see her with it down. But then again Mrs Lovett didn't seem the sort of woman to primp. Not when there were pies to make, bodies to cut up, other jobs to do.

_Eminently practical and always appropriate._

Her skin. White as milk, and lot less healthy. There wasn't even a hint of a healthy tinge to her cheeks, and the only colour on her face at all were two dark purple bags under her eyes, and a splatter of freckles across her nose.

Brown eyes. Chocolate, to be exact, and warm, yet… dulled. Hardened.

I closed my eyes for a moment and thought. Why was I taking the time to notice these things? Think, think.

Mrs Lovett. Nellie. I hadn't used her first name in so long that even thinking it seemed strange. She was… in the background. A necessary means to achieve the end I desired. She was bubbly, light-hearted – a lot of the time annoyingly so. She could never leave anything alone, but she was attentive, I had to admit, dedicated and strong. I couldn't think of another woman in London who would not only happily serve pies containing human meat to the people of London, but come up with the idea in the first place.

Benjamin Barker had considered her a good friend. What had been the reason for that?

Benjamin had thought her pretty, sat there on her doorstep polishing shoes, a spot of dirt on her nose, her hair almost charmingly tangled. He had considered her sweet, with her denial of attractiveness, and the way she had tried to see the sketch he had done of her before it was finished. That infinite curiosity.

I remembered.

An afternoon in Hyde Park. She had been watching the people go by. Benjamin had been reading. She'd asked about the book, and he'd realised she couldn't read. He'd begun to teach her.

_Why?_

Why did it matter? My thoughts went around in circles. I knew there was something about Eleanor Lovett that had attracted Benjamin Barker to her in the first place, something beyond simple curiosity. Perhaps if I knew what it was, I could be rid of these ridiculous feelings.

Although. I looked through the window again, hidden in the shadows. She was rolling pastry out for more pies.

_She really is rather beautiful._

I shoved the thought out of my mind. I shouldn't – couldn't – be thinking like that. Lucy. Think of Lucy. Beautiful, perfect, angelic Lucy. I loved her. She was my wife. I loved her. I loved her. I_ loved_ her. If _she_ had had any hold over Benjamin Barker, that would never have happened.

_She was rather sad that night…_

She'd cried, hadn't she? The night I came down after we told her. I'd not noticed, forced myself not to notice.

She'd cried. From… what?

_Jealousy._

I smirked. Of course. Such a simple answer, right there all along! Now I could see it all. Benjamin Barker _had_ approached her out of curiosity. The foolish, foolish woman. Not so practical, falling in love. Perhaps… yes, _that_ was it! I'd known, somewhere, deep down. _That_ was where the guilt came from, knowing how she felt, knowing that even so much as a sharp word hurt. Not that I cared. On the contrary, now I knew the source of all this, it would be so much easier to ignore. And now I knew for certain she would never back out, or anything else that might cause her to have an untimely end.

Mrs Lovett, what a charming notion, and while not so practical, in this case it is extremely appropriate. A certain guarantee.

"Love?"

I started and glanced sharply to my left, seeing Mrs Lovett there, a concerned expression on her face, her face half in shadow.

"Yes?" I struggled to keep up my normal cold demeanour, and fighting to urge to smirk, knowing her secret.

"Are you all right? Only you've been out 'ere for a good ten minutes o' more, an' you've got the strangest expression on your face."

So she'd noticed. Perhaps she was smarter than I gave her credit for.

"I'm perfectly fine, Mrs Lovett." I muttered. Then I had an idea, and a smirk did come, but I did not heed the possible warning it would give. Oh, how _easy_ it would be to cement that guarantee even more. Just one action, and… It was _perfect_.

There wasn't even much feeling in it. Just a brief brush of the lips, so fleeting it was barely there. Yet it was long enough to taste. I took a second to process it, and recognised the taste from so many years ago. Herbs, and something else… something _new_… Ah. Bay rum. Mrs Lovett had eaten one of her own pies.

"M-Mr T?" Her eyes were so shocked I wondered idly for a moment if they would actually pop out. "W-What-?"

I cut her off neatly.

"_Perfectly_ fine." I repeated. I felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that in some small way, even though Mrs Lovett meant almost nothing to me, I'd betrayed my wife, but I put that to rest by arguing that it had been a necessary action.

_It wasn't. You know it wasn't. She was already in love with you. You didn't need to kiss her._

_Shut up._

_You wanted to._

_SHUT UP!_

I pulled away form the hand she'd laid on my arm, and climbed the stairs rapidly, ignoring the plaintive cry she emitted. It had rained earlier, I noted absently, and the scent of wet hung in the air, like fresh earth and mould – almost sweet, in a way, and not as fresh as one would expect. Water splattered the stairs, but I paid the puddles no heed.

Until one foot slipped.

Until I lost my footing before I could clutch the handrail.

Before she screamed.

Before the pain.

Before the familiar blackness.

Before the blackness she'd saved me from.

Before the death she'd prevented so I could gain what was mine.

_Please save me._


End file.
